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2013.08.02 - Mousetrap, Part 1
It could have gone better, truthfully. Too much collateral damage both in lives lost and property damage. 'Too much' meaning that it gained too much attention. Mister Cheng couldn't care less about the other things. At all. The smartly dressed Chinese man is mad. Seething mad. To discover that another group had gone after the little albino mercenary at the same time as he? And, the Hand to boot? War will begin again as in days of old. China versus Japan, and this time, things will get ugly. In a 'safe house' in the city, now, with windows curtained, there is the barest of furniture in the place, and Domino isn't one any of them. No chair for the mercenary. Certainly no sofa. Or table. She's bound wrists to ankles, her arms crossed, palms facing out, on the floor- though facing up, with a goon standing beside her, though he's a good distance should the captured animal decide she wants to spin and somehow reach to attack. Mister Cheng is in the kitchen, speaking softly but intensely in English to someone else.. and from the sounds of responses, carries a French accent. "Is there a way to transport her there--" "That's not how it works, M'sieur Cheng, and you know that.." "Steamer trunk, then, padlocked.." While unseen, the response is quite probably in the negative, judging from the Chinese that spews from the usual calm, inscrutible Cheng. "What help are you to me then?!" "You hired me to keep you alive, M'sieur.. and so far?" So far, so good. "It won't do any good to continue to ask because everything needs to be in place first." Here, the Frenchman's tones sounds like he's smiling. "And while I'm not a psychic, by any means? You haven't hit on a transportation method that will work." Yet? "And the longer you wait the more likely I am to piss someone off enough that they decide to off me!" Domino calls back, knowing damn well that she'll be interrupting their conversation. She says it with a taunting grin. The thought of riding Luggage Class, that is locked inside of a trunk, isn't the most appealing. She's been in the trunks of cars before. It sucks. Being shoehorned into a case which is all right angles and not padded in the slightest is an experience she would be happy to forgo. One only has so many options in these situations. She knows she's lost. Game over, for now. But, she's resigned herself to the fact that one of these days, when she least expects it, her luck is going to run out. She's going to get in over her head and that will be the end of it. Mission failed, no second tries. It's just how her life works, how her profession operates. You can't win all of them. If she's going to die here she's going to die grinning, taunting her captors. They can do whatever they want to her, she'll deny them any satisfaction beyond pulling the trigger. Willpower like hers is incredibly difficult to kill, the body would break long before the mind. Looking up to the lone guard, she asks "So, pretty sweet gig?" as if the two were sitting down sharing coffee together. "Money must be damn good for you to be standing around. I'm what you might call a 'high risk' sort of mark." Smile. Voices lower the moment a conscious sound is heard from their quarry, and the pair emerge from the efficiency kitchen, Mister Cheng first, and then the Frenchman second. Cheng stops just outside of range as the other man files past, a smirk set upon his face as he finds a comfortable spot on the barebones couch. He says nothing, however. He simply watches; though a cigarette is lit, slowly and casually. It's Cheng that fights for his usually calm exterior, and he stands beside the man guarding the prone, tied form. "The longer we wait, the mere fact you are breathing pisses more people off than even I imagined, Domino." Cheng shakes his head and arms cross before him as he looks down. A soft, multiple 'tsk' sounds from the businessman, and he shakes his head. "But I think you know that, judging from your less than healthy state." Crouching, forearms sit upon his legs, and he points, "Look at those bruises.. you're like.. a pit bull I've rescued from the ring. And now.." Looking up, those almond eyes seem to almost fill with a light of understated glee as he looks to the man on the couch. "That's it.." he whispers. Cheng doesn't rise, but instead stays down low, looking back to those brilliant blue eyes. "They will be talking about your antics for months, Domino. You will thank me for taking you away so you don't face American justice." When the other two approach Domino rolls her head to peer in their direction, a sneer plastered across her face. "Chengie! I thought I recognized that over-compensating voice." The Frenchman... "Hey, don't I know your buddy from somewhere?" With Cheng now standing beside her she makes a show of shrugging without moving her shoulders a whole lot. "It's a talent." It's all she has to say about the matter, though she does so while looking overly smug. Then, when Cheng tries to play it up like he's doing her a favor she barks out laughing, part in defiance and part because she finds it hysterical. "Me..thank you..for saving me from American justice! Bahaha! Like it'd ever get far enough to see the inside of a courtroom, aaahaha! Oh Chengie," she trails off, sniffing from tears of amusement, "you always did have such entertaining stories to tell. I'd thank you for the laugh but I'm still gonna make you eat your own teeth." Later, of course. Extenuating circumstances, and all. Still trying to compose herself, she asks "So what now, is this the part where I'm supposed to beg for my life and try to negotiate for my release? Can we just skip past that part? I've never been a fan of drama." Smoke curls up from the newly lit cigarette, and the Frenchman simply sits and watches, though he does shift in his seat to get comfortable. Damned uncomfortable thing, undoubtedly from the '50s. Wooden legs, thin padding. Green wool apolstry. If there is any response to the Chinese man, it's so subtle that even Cheng doesn't catch it. Cheng's attempt at a wolfish smile fails. Miserably. He shakes his head, the pleasure disappearing from those dark brown eyes once again. It's the laughter. "You crazy bitch.." and he rises now, ready to take out his frustration on the prone woman. He kicks out before turning around, madder now that he's lost his temper. In front of a peon, too! "You are talented, Domino. It's why you are still breathing. And your talent is going to be put to the test. You are the opening shot in our war now, and you will have no choice.. my little pit bull." Because now, it's personal. "This is the part when you begin to wish you weren't such a lucky bitch." Cheng turns about again, facing Domino, and he takes a phone from his pocket. There's a moment when his thumb presses the numbers of his smart phone, and holds it to his ear. A couple of heartbeats pass before he's speaking in rapidfire Mandarin.. and it's just as quickly that he hangs up. "You are going to Japan, Domino." If there's any indication of 'for good or ill' from the Frenchman on the couch, he's actually a little more inscrutible than the Chinese businessman at the moment. The only thing different is that smoke passes out of the man's nostrils rather than past his lips. "That sounds right, m'sieur." He inclines his head, that ghost of a smile playing on his face, "Congratulations on finding your way." Just one kick? Hah, this oughta be a cakewalk. The muscles in Domino's stomach tighten the instant before Cheng's shoe connects with her ribs, gathering a small grunt. And more chuckling. "That's crazy albino bitch to you, kiddo. There's a lot of crazy bitches out there, I need to establish a bit of brand awareness." And again, with the dog analogies. "Really," she says in a tone that's suddenly gone quite level. "The dog thing was never funny. Show some class, here. You've got people watching." Not that any of his words are missed or mentally glossed over. She's learning something new, here. A war? She could easily argue that she already was the opening shot, but it's all semantics by now. (Here's the part where I wish I spoke Chinese, anyway.) Japan? "Better than being shuffled back to China," she replies in that flat tone once more. "Seriously, this is where I wish that I wasn't lucky? That place is an industrial dump! I'll take the sake over the toxic fog, sure." (Sonuvabitch, is this clown really going to fuel that fire..?) "I'll be sure to tell everyone there who sent me and where you can be found so they can thank you directly. Win-win, right?" (Okay, this..could get bad.) Now, with the confirmation from the man on the couch, Mister Cheng looks a little more relaxed. He lets out a breath and pulls down on his suit jacket in an idle gesture to straighten it. Now, it's a matter of how much the merc on the floor should know, or rather, how much he should tell her just so she knows that he's got her where he wants her now. There's no getting out of it, luck or no. Or rather, so he believes. Lady luck can be a bitch. "They'll be expecting you, Domino," Cheng begins again. "And from there, you will be handed off until you get to your final destination. Your information regarding my whereabouts is old news. Like you.. oh.. perhaps not like you.. Unlike you, I choose my locations carefully." And rarely stay in one place for too long, or make any acquaintances for longer than it takes to bed them, or use them. Or both. Turning about to the single guard, he gives an order in Mandarin, rapidly and his tones demanding before he stalks back to the kitchen. There comes an answering grunt from the drone and he steps forward with a hypodermic needle emerging from a pocket. The Frenchman, now, rises slowly from his spot on the couch, and he in turn watches Cheng depart for the kitchen, and Domino on the floor. He takes a couple of steps towards the merc on the floor, and crouches down, his tones low and heavily accented, "Things always look darkest before the dawn." "Thanks for ruining the surprise party," Domino replies to Cheng with her taunting expression intact. Changing locations, well... Maybe that's easier for him. He's got lackeys to do his bidding, all of China to roam about in. Out here, she's got the east coast or the west coast to work with. The cities are big enough that she can disappear when she needs to, though naturally anyone with the money, manpower and determination is going to find her, wherever she is. There's only two people that look anything like her and no mistaking which one isn't her. "Unlike you, I don't need a bunch of underlings to do my dirty work. Before this week is over there will be blood on your fancy little suit, Chengo, and I'll be seeing to it personally." The revealing of a needle kicks her mind back into overdrive, quickly figuring out her options (of which there are few) and her odds (of which are rather terrible.) If she's injected then this fight is over. If not... Maybe she can do a little more damage before it's all over. One thing about Dom, she won't sit there and take it. Ever. Frenchie gets a sarcastic smile of his own, waiting for the baddie with the hypo to get closer. Her range of motion is limited but her determination's still as good as ever. As soon as he narrows the gap she shoves back against the floor, twisting about like a mouse with its tail caught in a trap to try and drive her knee into the man's jaw. (Gonna have to fight for it, asshole!) They always underestimate Domino, don't they? The Frenchman stays put in his crouch, more that out of the way for the bit of prowess the albino merc shows. The immediacy, and the sheer force put into the move when the goon simply isn't expecting it is remarkable. The hypo slides up, and the hand is pushed out to the side, striking- The Frenchman. Those eyes on the other mercenary says it all. He does expect the prick, and doesn't flinch from the plunge, though now he rises to his feet. With a strike almost as fast as Domino can do, his foot swings out to connect with the man's head, knocking him out cold in the kick. In the next second, he looks to Domino that still remains on the floor, but hardly without the ability to protect herself, apparently. "You will be out for two hours.." he says quietly. The Frenchman looks like he's about ready to drop, and before he does, he wobbles back over to the couch, laying down as if he's simply taking a nap.. not to be disturbed. That is one of the tricks that Dom has in her arsenal. A woman of her size is easily underestimated, especially in a male-dominated profession. She can get away with so much shit based off of stereotypes, alone. Their loss is once again her gain. Or Frenchie's loss, as the case may be. Now why did he get hit with the injection? Everything for a reason and all but she's still not sure what to make of the guy. Which side is he on? What does he want out of all of this? Time would tell, but probably not before he bounces back from the tranquilizer he just got hit with. One less obstacle to worry about. The part that confuses her the most is the last thing that he has to offer. 'Out for two hours.' Out from what? He got hit with the needle! Which means she's probably about to get hit in the head by something blunt. It's exactly what she's watching for, expecting to happen. Though while it happens she's not done twisting the proverbial knife. That guard's not showing nearly enough rage yet. "Nice aim, jackhole!" It happens. There are moments when the best laid plans of mice and men simply.. gang aglee. The Frenchman is out, the guard that got a serious clock on the side of his head is groaning.. and there's that moment when almond eyes blink in the realization that something has gone terribly wrong. Scrambling to his feet, slowly and painfully, he looks to the couch, and back at Domino.. and into the kitchen. From the kitchen, then, comes a stirring, the sound of a chair pushed against a linoleum floor.. and the moment Cheng comes out, he surveys the scene. In seeming response to the mocking response from the tied albino merc, Mister Cheng pulls a small pistol from a shoulder holster, and takes aim directly for his henchman, his failed henchmen's heart, and pulls the trigger.. once.. twice. "Thank you, Domino." Was her retort meant as a compliment? It is now.. Looking to the couch upon which the other mercinary lies, Cheng takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, shaking his head. "And he calls himself a professional." Oh, the things one learns while lying semi-helpless upon the floor... Within seconds Domino's learned a great deal more about her situation and the man orchestrating it all. Cheng's willing to kill his own men because of her, which means he really wants her alive for something. Maybe he even needs her for something. He's not afraid to go to more drastic measures to make sure she knows about it, too. Now she's wearing some of that dead goon's blood on her face. "Well I guess someone's not getting a Christmas card this year. Thanks, that guy was really creeping me out." She's also learned that she can push her luck quite a lot further before Cheng would decide to flat-out kill her. Hurt her, sure. She's rather surprised that the one kick is all he's decided to do up to this point. But, it would seem as though she's still worth more to him alive than not. "So..hey," she presses with a meaningful pause and an awkward shrug. "Did you bring another syringe, or did you miss that day of Boyscouts?" Cheng leans over to pick up his spent brass and puts the casings into his pocket. Stepping over the fallen body, he picks up the syringe, checks what's left before he looks at the sleeping merc on the bed. He stands silently, ignoring Domino for the moment in order to put his thoughts in order. It doesn't take long, however, before the inscrutible Chinese leader looks down at the only mostly incapacitated albino. "In our second stop. So, this is going to hurt, but will be just as effective," he offers softly. It's time to move in order to have his newly revised plans to work. "And, as they say, 'This will hurt you more than it does me..'" Hooray for Chinese expression of American culture! Cheng approaches, and it's a swift, sure roundhouse kick that may (or may not!) be mitigated .. the point is to stun more than to knock. It'll be the second blow, should the first land, that'll take out the pressure point on the neck for a quick nighty-night! The bruising, however? So very satisfying to Cheng! "I'm willing to let it happen just so I don't have to listen to your grating voice anymore," Domino almost pleasantly replies. "Seriously, I think Geneva might have something to say about this as a torture tactic." You will be out for two hours. (What, is Frenchie a bloody precog? That might explain a few things.) That would also mean that she's going to get knocked out soon, one way or another. Since she can't get herself free and it's down to just her and an armed and capable Chinese mobster guy, her odds are well out the window. Doesn't mean he can't still work for it. In that first kick Dom tries to throw herself around once more to catch it with the top of her thighs rather than her head, but she's not..quite..there in time. It's a glancing blow to her head, but it's still a blow to her head. "C'mon you idiot, fucking hit m--!" WHOK! She needed the nap, anyway. Category:Log